


Sleepless Winter Nights

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: Comfort [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cold, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, Fluff, I just really want Ian sucking on Mickey's nipples, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple kink, Nipples, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter, ian is cold, mickey is a sweatheart, nipple sucking, the feelings happened, then this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian’s fails to stop the smile that stretched across his face. He noses at the nub between his fingers before reaching up the zipper with his teeth, pulling it down with a loud resounding ziiiing all the way to Mickey’s stomach. The jacket peels away and he has a face-to-chest view of Mickey’s skin. He doesn’t hesitate to live-out the fantasies in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless Winter Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7209650) by [Army C (arh581958)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C). 



> I couldn't sleep and I decided to write this. I hope you enjoy~
> 
> It's a short fluff-piece about my guilty little pleasure aka _Ian sucking on Mickey's nipples_ because I do now have enough of it. It's loosely connected to the other story entitled [Comfort](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7209650) but you don't nessesarily have to read that one to understand this. It basically just happens in the same universe.
> 
> **Not Beta Read. Open for Volunteers.**

Ian couldn’t sleep. He tries and fails, twisting and turning underneath the sheets. It’s the middle of winter in the Gallagher house. The old rickety heater’s shrilling in the hallway. Not even his brother’s piled up bodies on the bunkbed across the room help in warming up the space. He shivers under all of his three layers—a tank, a Henley, and a pullover, with tracksuit pants and _socks_.

“Quit moving,” a sleep-drenched voice mutters from above him. It’s Mickey, always Mickey. Ian’s almost forgotten how often they get to do this now—the sleepovers, sleeping in each other’s house, in each other’s rooms, in each other’s arms. They’ve still got a less than ideal home life but any life with Mickey is A-okay in his book.

“I’m cold,” Ian mutters back, huddling closer for comfort. He’s literally half-sprawled over Mickey like a giant octopus, legs over Mickey’s thighs and arms over Mickey’s chest. He feels it under his cheek and fingers when Mickey moves.

Unlike him, Mickey’s only got a jacket and sweatpants on his frame. Maybe it’s because he had his own room back at the Milkovich house and cuddling as a means for heat-sharing was never really a popular thing. He’s used to the cold more than Ian.

“C’mere.” He moves, settling on his side that actually puts more distance between their bodies. Ian whines low in displeasure. “Stop squirming, Firecrotch, I watched this in a movie once.” He positioned his back against the cool wall and takes the pillow from their head, replacing it with one of his arms. The pillow gets put at Ian’s back.

 _Mickey’s made a cocoon_ , Ian realizes, and a warm bubbling feeling fills his chest. It’s enough to warm him from the inside-out. Despite the initial drop in temperature, the air between their bodies eventually rise back up. Their hands, one of Mickey’s and both of Ian’s, are clasped together near their stomachs.

Ian lays his head on Mickey’s arm. Their noses brush. Mickey still won’t open his eyes.

“If you’re not going to sleep, Gallagher, then you should let _me_ sleep.” It’s mostly sleepy than annoyed. No bite, really.

When they started this whole thing, Ian would have probably gotten a sucker punch to the jaw for walking Mickey Milkovich while the latter tried to sleep—not that he let Ian see him sleep often—but lately, Mickey in Ian’s bed or Ian in Mickey’s bed has become a regular thing.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Between the pocket of warmth in front of him and the steadily warming pillow behind him, Ian cannot help but feel the heat in his cheeks when Mickey spoke. He stares at Mickey’s face as sees no indication that those blue eyes were peaking beneath long lashes. Mickey can probably just sense it in the way Ian holds his body rigid.

“Sorry.” Ian’s teeth clatter. He shits again to try and find a more comfortable position. They’re squished together on his rickety old bed.

“Stop.” It’s soft and warning. “You’ll wake up the whole house with all your shivering. C’mere.” This time, he pulls on Ian’s hands and brings it under his shirt, inhaling sharply as the cool limbs make contact with his heated skin.

Ian hitches his breath too.

Mickey’s soft stomach is warm, so warm. It’s like fire underneath Ian’s fingertips. Ian wants to bury his face in it, crawl inside it and stay forever in that warmth. Tender Mickey doesn’t often make an appearance but he does stupidly couple-like gestures like this whenever he does.

Ian loves it. “S’nice,” he whispers out loud without really meaning to. Above him, he heard the slight shift in Mickey’s breathing in response. They don’t really need words right now. Ian shuffles closer, nosing the threadbare fleece jacket while his hands continue to roam Mickey’s stomach, sides, and chest. He brushes over Mickey’s nipple accidentally.

The sound that Mickey makes it between a whine and a whimper, so soft that it’s barely audible in a room filled with deafening silence—except probably to Ian’s well-trained ears, because he was waiting for it.

“Can I?” Ian brushes over the small hardening nub again. “Mick, I…” He doesn’t really know how to say it, or how to phrase it. They’ve done it a couple of times but it’s mostly an after-thought thing. He’s never asked it from Mickey like this—plain and simple and without pretense.

Mickey, in response, doesn’t say anything. He just juts out his chest a little bit more in offering.

Ian’s fails to stop the smile that stretched across his face. He noses at the nub between his fingers before reaching up the zipper with his teeth, pulling it down with a loud resounding _ziiiing_ all the way to Mickey’s stomach. The jacket peels away and he has a face-to-chest view of Mickey’s skin. He doesn’t hesitate to live-out the fantasies in his head.

He buries his face in the light happy trail, moving up to the flat but soft stomach, to the valley between Mickey’s pecs. His hands roll the twin peaks between the thumb and the forefinger, relishing the way that Mickey’s starting to hump the air.

Ian smooths a hand down to touch the growing bulge between Mickey’s legs, but Mickey stops him.

“It’s fine,” Mickey says, holding onto Ian’s hand. “Just… c’mon, Firecrotch, you waiting for an invite?”

Ian flicks his tongue wetly over the free nipple before sucking it into his mouth, harsher than he initially intended with the smell of their arousals starting to build in the air. Mickey hisses but keeps quiet, biting on his bottom lip while Ian laves over his tit.  

The hand on Mickey’s other nipple falls away. Mickey moves, adjusts to Ian’s head, so that Ian can reach the other one. Ian licks his appreciation with firm broad strokes. The whole world narrows down to just them—Ian, Mickey, and the small intimate gesture that connects them. It’s nice in a way that Ian rarely ever felt, either of them ever felt, while growing up.

Eventually, Ian forgets about the winter cold, the noisy heater, and everything else, then falls asleep with his mouth gently suckling on Mickey’s nipple.

**Author's Note:**

> Still new to the Gallavich fandom. I would love to get to know you~
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~
> 
> As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).


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